Stigma (Snowfall)
Stigma Part eight, Mission Two, of Snowfall. The stone base is easy enough to climb: the cracks between each brick help immensely and soon we’re flopped around the stone chain at the statue’s feet. “So you’re saying this cat’s name is Sigma, she’s a member of The Hidden, she’s Pi’s mate, and when he was killed she vowed revenge on you,” says Sparkles. “Yep.” I sharpen my claws against the stone. “Should we rest here for a bit or start climbing again?” “Start climbing.” Sparkles shrugs her shoulders. “I’d like to get this over with and return to England.” “Okay.” I get up and start to scale the statue’s robes. Without climbing gear, this is hard. The only resting points along the way are the folds in the robes. We’re both hungry, tired, and fed up with being thrown around Manhattan like ragdolls. “Hopefully we’ll be able to go home after this,” groans Sparkles. “The housefolk probably miss us like mad.” I nod and flop into another fold. This one is sheltered from the sun, and I bask in the cool shade. It’s just past midday, and the sun is slowly heating up the world. It is summer, after all. “Did you have a good birthday?” Sparkles asks, out of the blue. I shrug. “I guess I got to go to SeaWorld and New York. I think those can classify as my birthday party for staying alive for one year.” I pause. “How old are you, Sparkles, anyway?” “Twenty five moons,” Sparkles yawns. “You’ve gotta be twenty four moons to either leave Little Wings and lead a normal kitty life or become a staff member. I’m going to become a mission controller when we return to England. I’ll go to Devon with Amsterdam and ask Faolan about it. I’m a navy collar; I’m sure he’ll allow me a job.” “Did you take any food?” I ask. “I’m starving.” “Have a look in my collar. It’s not my navy one; the navy collar thing is just a rank. I once heard Snarl telling me that we all might get real collars soon.” “Cool.” I get up and root around her bejewelled collar and eventually find a small jar. “Mousemeat preserved in salt water,” explains Sparkles. “The salt water is modified so the meat lasts several months instead of a few days.” She tips out the jar’s contents not the stone. I lap it up greedily, being wary of saving some for Sparkles. Sparkles kicks the jar and the lid off the edge, and we watch it fall, listening out for the shattering noise it would make when it reached the bottom. “Another climb?” I ask. Sparkles nods and we start climbing again. It’s late afternoon by the time we reach the statue’s book. We’re dizzyingly high above the ground now, but the views are worth it. I spot Amsterdam and his family down below, and I manage a small wave. “Why did Amsterdam stay behind?” I ask. “He said to me that he wanted to stay behind and let us complete our mission,” Sparkles shrugged. When we reach the statue’s face, the sun is already starting to set. “We’ve got so far,” I pant, watching the sun dip below the horizon. “And I wonder if this is actually it.” “All we have to do is push the damn thing off the cliff,” Sparkles snorts. “I’ll enjoy watching her fall to her death.” “You sound like Amy.” “I’m her sister, you cretin, of course we sound alike.” “I’m not physically deformed and I don’t have thyroid problems, so you have no right to call me a cretin,” I point out smugly. “Alright then, retard.” “GG.” I settle down to sleep. Sparkles blinks in alarm. “What are you doing?” she shrieks. “The sun is setting and we promised Amy we’ll be here by this evening!” She shoves me to my paws. “Get a move on, you lump.” “But this climb is so tough,” I moan. “This is tough, but FROST agents are tougher,” she snarls. “You want a navy collar or not?” “Fine,” I grunt as I begin to haul myself up the face. “I’ll get my navy collar.” We’re onto the crown thing now, and I haul myself up the final stretch. All this time, and I’m finally here. In front of me was Sigma, her yellowish-brown fur ruffled and unkempt. It looked to be once long an fluffy, but months of worry and trauma had led it into a state of chaos, like The Hidden. Yellow eyes are glued to me, blinking in amazement. Her plumy tail is filled with burrs and thorns. There’s a weird sense of roguish beauty about her. But beneath all that beauty and intimidating appearance is a scared, traumatised soul. “Yes…” her voice is feminine, but coarse and raspy. “You’ve come to me.” “Hand it over, Sigma,” I spit. “It’s our money.” Sigma giggles. “I dumped it in the sea.” I snarl with rage. “So we came all this way for nothing?” “No,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You came here to die.” “No, you came here to die,” I snarl. She steps closer and thrusts her face into mine. “Do you know what I’ve been through since you killed my mate? Alpha stripped me of my dignity. Delta got off; he was a high rank and Alpha couldn’t afford to lose him. The Hidden were scattered all over the globe. There was a stigma about me: nobody would talk to me, or acknowledge my existence. Since there was no eligible replacement for Pi, all cats below him were stripped of their dignity so The Hidden could remain ‘whole’. Since I was involved, I had the worst treatment. All I wanted to do was die or leave. But I couldn’t. I would just make things worse. If I broke the oath I swore, they would come after who I loved and slowly torture them. But Alpha opened a window for me. He said if I killed you things would return for normal.” I stared in silence for several seconds. “You’re not speaking in rhymes,” I breathed. “Frick those rhymes,” she snorted. “Seeing you here has made me sane.” “So is this were you kill me now?” I ask flatly. “I don’t kill,” she purrs silkily. “I—” Sigma is interrupted by Sparkles collapsing onto the top. “I fell down a bit,” she panted. “But I’m here now.” She peers at Sigma. “What are you looking at?” Sigma snarls. “Get on with it.” Sparkles rolls her eyes and gets to her paws. “Die, bitch.”